They had to go to Church. There was no 'ifs' or 'buts' about it," Mary Bartholomew recalled. She was sitting on a chair in the living room of a Brooklyn apartment, with her close relatives, talking about her children, one of whom was slain US army soldier, 38-year-old Simeon Roderique. It was an incredulous display of faith and steadfastness in the face of an unimaginable horror.She was remarkably poised, but her pain was unmistakeably incisive. A few minutes later she cracked under the strain and began sobbing."What ah go do without him? He was everything to me...what ah go do? He was so supportive and protective of me and de family."
Her cousin Ria moved close to her-to lend support."Auntie, we are here for you. We know how hard it is."It was tough to witness, but every minute a learning experience in human resolve and compassion.
Unabashedly spiritual, Bartholomew, also known as Teacher Jean, reminisced about the patriotism of her son, his harried search for work when he arrived in the US in 1993, and his decision to join the armed forces."He would go to Trinidad all the time. He loved his country so much. "He was having such a great time when he was there, going to the beaches, eating, and even thinking about entering a parang competition," said his friend, Keisha Noel, who sat with the family. She had accompanied Sgt Roderique on that fateful trip.
Bartholomew's sister, Jennifer, was also there. She recalled her nephew's strong thirst for spiritual knowledge, and their theological studies which cemented their unique bond."We both had a degree in theology. I saw him only a week ago at our weekly bible classes," she said, smiling as she recalled his slight speech impediment. "You know he would stutter a bit, especially when he got excited?" His mom and Ria laughed and nodded in agreement.It was a rare moment of levity for a family grappling with the shocking death of a loved one, and sketchy details of his murder. And in a cruel twist of irony, it was on a day when a nation celebrated Thanksgiving, its most popular holiday.
For this family, there was no dining, drinking, and nostalgic merriment. It was a moment of fatigue, grief, bewilderment, and even anger.In the the swirl of these emotions, the talk of God was ever present. Yes, Curt, as Sgt Roderique was called, had been the ultimate US warrior for 12 years, having been stationed in Kosovo and poised for promotion. He had his own office in Queens, NY, recruiting candidates to join the world's most sophisticated military.But Curt, on that morning was remembered as a young man of deep faith and spiritual acumen. "He was deep in the spirit, having taken two thrones," his Mom said, referring to the "mourning" experience of Spiritual Baptists-even at one point intimating that her son had foreseen his demise. She did not elaborate.
"When my boy preached, you felt it in your bones and your pores would raise. I remember him preaching to a congregation right here in Brooklyn, asking them to search deep into their hearts right there and then."Bartholomew went on to describe a confessional moment, a kind of catharsis-that caused mass weeping. Curt, they said, was that good. He was more than a soldier. Now, Bartholomew was being asked to bury her son-a parent's worst nightmare. "I got up this morning and God knows I don't want to fly in His face, but it hurts. I also got a call from a friend who kept mentioning the way Curt died, and how sorry she was. People will say what they want to, but I am finding strength in the Bible. It gives you answers."
She went on to mention children who are blind at birth and other inexplicable tragedies."These are all examples and trials for us to learn from." she reasoned, gesticulating-driving home her point-her voice undaunted. "My son, I am sure is a martyr. I think of all the saints and spiritual people who have died tragically-all for a good cause that we can all learn from." And as she spewed resentment for her native country that "prey on innocent people," she paused, and, as if inspired, stated: "I pray that my son's murder will not be in vain. If there is one good that can come out of his martyrdom is that something will be done to clean up Trinidad."The phone rang. It was Nikela, Sgt Roderique's 13-year-old daughter.Bartholomew began to cry... again.